Breaking News (7 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Breaking News
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Chapter 7
C
hris Clay wiped an imaginary speck of dust from the clapel of his newly purchased Calvin Klein tuxedo. He was attending a movie premiere with Abby, and he wanted to look his very best. Though he'd been to many such events in the past, he'd never attended them with a woman with whom he was madly in love.
He grinned just thinking of Abby. She was a pint-size ball of fire, with blond curls and eyes as blue as the sky. He'd been attracted to her for a long, long time. Though their parents had married one another, Chris had never seen much of Abby during the years of their parents' marriage, as he'd been away at college. Then his father passed away, and he thought his contact with Abby and Toots might end, but it didn't. Toots remained his mother in every sense of the word. He'd been in high school when they married, and he adored Toots. She was the only mother figure he'd ever had. Later, when Abby moved to Los Angeles, where Chris was practicing law, he'd promised Toots he'd keep an eye out for her. He had in his own way. Chris didn't want her to think he was stalking her, or that he was an overly possessive stepbrother, so he'd stayed behind the scenes as much as possible, allowing Abby to live her life. Occasionally, they'd meet for lunch or just bump into one another, but they'd never really hung out on a regular basis.
Nonetheless, she'd somehow managed to get under his skin, and no matter how much he tried, he simply could not stop thinking of her. He'd kept his feelings to himself. But two years ago, they'd had a date of sorts. He'd taken her to Pink's, a little joint in Los Angeles noted for its hot dogs. They'd sat in the car, chatted, and eaten their hot dogs. Then he'd kissed her fingers. One at a time. With each kiss, his whole being filled with wanting. And it hadn't stopped since.
Trapped on a mountain during a blizzard with that featherbrained Laura Leighton had made him realize just how short life really was and that it could be taken away at a moment's notice. He vowed then that he would tell Abby his feelings. If she rebuffed him, then so be it.
Luckily for him, she'd felt the same way. Ever since, they'd taken things slow and easy. Tonight he planned to change that when he proposed. He had purchased a diamond ring and had it safely tucked inside the pocket of his tuxedo. For that matter, he planned to change a lot of things in his life. He could only hope that Abby would agree to the changes.
With one last look in the mirror, he ran a comb through his hair, knowing it wouldn't stay in place no matter what he did. Then he shut the light out, grabbed the keys to his Toyota Camry, and headed for Brentwood. Since selling his condo, he'd relocated to an apartment just minutes from Abby's. He liked being close to her, liked that he could be at her house in ten minutes, and that was in heavy traffic.
Five minutes later, he pulled into Abby's drive. Her bright yellow MINI Cooper was parked in its usual place. Abby had spent hours weeding, watering, and planting, and now her front lawn rivaled any in Beverly Hills. In the back, the courtyard had been overrun with elderberry vines, honeysuckle, and morning glory. Abby had artfully trimmed the vines, making her back lawn a place to kick back and relax. If it were up to him, he'd rather toss a couple of steaks on the grill and enjoy the sweet scents and the view. Not that night, though. It was an important night for Abby, as she, or rather
The Informer,
had been invited to attend the movie premiere. In the world of tabloid journalism, it was big news.
A loud bark jolted him out of his reverie. He hopped out of his car and walked behind the house to the fenced-in yard, where Chester was racing around. Chris unlocked the door to the gate, as Chester stood on the other side, waiting to greet him like an old friend. He stooped down to pet the big German shepherd and received a big, slobbery doggy kiss.
“Hey, not tonight, old guy. I've got a hot date with the best-looking woman in LA. I don't think she'd like it much if I smelled like a dog.” Chris rubbed the shepherd between his ears. “No offense, buddy.”
He left the backyard and went around to the front, where he knocked on the door. He could've tapped on the French doors, and Abby would've let him in, but tonight was formal, special. He wanted the evening to be perfect, because if he was lucky enough, both his and Abby's lives were about to change.
She opened the door, and what he saw literally took his breath away.
“Don't you look like the sexiest man alive,” Abby said as Chris stepped inside the entryway. “You could give any one of those movie stars a run for their money.”
Chris grinned but said nothing. He stared at Abby as though he were seeing her for the very first time. “And I could say the same about you. If I didn't know better, I would mistake you for one of those starlets that you write about.”
Abby stopped and turned to face him. She placed a hand on each shoulder, then leaned into him, her lips mere inches from his. In her most sensual voice, she said, “If you ever say that to me again, I will smack you squarely in that delicious mouth of yours.”
Chris placed his arms loosely around her waist, then whispered in her ear, “Promise?”
“I'm not making any kind of promise,” Abby said, her blue eyes dancing playfully. She stepped out of his embrace. “Though I must admit, you clean up very nicely.”
“Only because I wouldn't want to publicly humiliate you,” Chris joked.
Abby really took a good look at Chris. “There isn't a chance of that, and you know it very well. I think the tux suits you, kind of James Bondish. I like the all-black look.” She scanned the length of him, then smiled.
“I take it I pass your inspection?”
“With flying colors,” Abby added, then did a quick swirl. “And?”
Chris laughed. It wasn't like Abby to seek a compliment, but he liked that she did, and from him especially. “That dress looks as though it were made for you. The color brings out your cheekbones.”
“You sound like Joan Rivers on the red carpet,” Abby said, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a girlish giggle.
“Whatever I sound like, I hope to hell I don't look like her. All that stretched skin. Reminds me of a Halloween mask gone bad.”
“Oh now, that's mean, Chris. Even from you. If we're lucky, she'll stop us tonight. She's known for picking on the unexpected guests.
The Informer
isn't at the top of the guest list, I can tell you that much.”
“I won't argue with that.” Chris glanced at his watch. “Are you all set? Anything special we need to do for Chester? He's in the backyard, admiring the squirrels.”
“My new neighbors are going to check on him tonight. Since I had that new doggy door installed, he can pretty much come and go when he wants.”
“You didn't tell me you had new neighbors,” Chris stated.
“You didn't ask,” she replied. “And before you do, they're a retired couple. They bought that ranch two houses down. Their granddaughter urged them to move here. They said she's going to be a big star someday, and they wanted to do whatever they could to support her,” Abby explained.
“Well, good luck. Only her and a zillion others,” Chris commented. “But if Chester likes them, then I'll take that as a sign.”
“He does, and thanks. I thought the same thing,” Abby agreed. “You know, we're both starting to think and act like Sophie.”
Chris cackled. “Please don't put me in that category! I love the old gal, but she could use a bit of sprucing up in the mouth department. At sixty-five or sixty-six, she's still attractive, I'll give her that, but she needs to tone down the cussing. Takes away from her good looks.”
Abby looked at him as though he had two heads. “You're . . .
shitting
me, right?” She couldn't help herself.
He shook his head, his eyes as bright as fire. He put both hands out in front of him, as though he were reluctantly surrendering. “No, I am not
shitting
you, Abby Simpson. Now”—he glanced at his watch for the second time—“if we don't get out of here soon, we'll miss the walk down the red carpet. And I, for one, do not want to miss an opportunity to be interviewed by Ms. Rivers.”
Abby laughed. “Let me get my purse.”
Unbeknownst to Abby, Chris had arranged for a limousine service to take them to the movie premiere. He wanted this entire night to be magical, like something out of a fairy tale, an experience Abby would remember for the rest of her life. A story she would tell their children and grandchildren. He smiled at the thought. Life was good, and if he was right about Abby and her feelings for him, it was about to get a whole lot better.
Abby emerged from the bedroom with a tiny matching purse. He couldn't imagine what it could hold.
“It's for my cell and lipstick, okay?” Abby informed him. “I know what you're thinking.”
“More and more like Sophie.”
She rolled her eyes. “I cuss, but I am not psychic. Now, let's get out of here. I had the MINI detailed just for tonight. No dog hairs on this dress.” Abby grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall by the front door. Chris reached up and took them from her.
“Just what in the heck do you think you're doing? Don't you dare go and get all macho—me man, you woman—on me. I can drive just fine, thank you very much.”
“Abby.” His lips found hers. He explored their soft, velvety fullness, the taste that he'd learned to love.
Gently, Abby pushed him away from her, a smile igniting the fire he saw in her eyes.
“That's . . . nice, but—” She stopped. She wasn't
required
to attend this premiere.
“But what?” he asked.
“We don't have to go, really. We can stay here and . . .” Abby wanted to say “have wild sex all night” but didn't.
Chris wrapped his arms around her, and she placed her head of thick blond curls on his chest. “I know what you're thinking, and there is nothing I would like more, but we can't. Our wheels just arrived.”
Abby pulled out of his embrace and peered out the front window. “A limo? This is why you took my keys from me?”
“Yep,” he said.
She opened the clasp on her clutch purse and dropped the keys inside.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Chapter 8
“H
ow do I look?” Toots asked Sophie.
“Like a cheap old woman trying to look twenty years younger,” Sophie stated in a steely tone.
Toots whirled around, saw the teasing look on Sophie's face, then fell on the bed next to her. “You are such a witch.”
Toots had spent the last hour in her bedroom, trying on clothes. She wanted to look extra special for her date that night but didn't want it to appear as though she was trying too hard.
“I know. Ida reminds me every chance she gets,” Sophie said. With several pillows propped behind her, Sophie reclined on Toots's bed in a pose that Queen Elizabeth I might have taken. “She's pissed. You know that, right?”
Toots got up and tossed the cream-colored skirt she'd removed on the bed to join the rest of the clothes she'd already discarded. “Look, Ida is always pissed at someone. It's just her way. She's really excited about her new cosmetics, and frankly, so am I. I just used the face cream when I got out of the shower. It really softened my skin.”
“Yes, she instructed me on how and when to use it, too. Mavis likes it. I do, too, but I'm not sure I want to tell her that. Today is day one. Who knows? We could look like old, dried-up prunes tomorrow. That would be just like Ida to do something like that. Make us believe she's discovered the fountain of youth, when, in reality, she's condemning us to something that could cause disfigurement or skin cancer.”
“Sophie, your vivid imagination continues to amaze me. Do you really believe Ida would do such a thing?”
“No, of course not, but do not ever tell her I said so.”
In the walk-in closet, Toots pulled hanger after hanger from the rod, then piled them on the bed, next to the other pile. “If I told Ida everything you said, she would have murdered you a long time ago. Or at least maimed you in some way. Facial disfigurement?”
Sophie laughed. “You think it's funny, but I don't. I've tried for years to make Ida like me, and she doesn't. Who knows? She might try to—”
“Shut up! Your psychic abilities have warped your mind. Ida is totally harmless. She's simply a self-centered, self-righteous, stuck-up bitch. She knows this full well. I swear, I think she takes pride in it, too. But a killer? No, she wouldn't have the guts.” Toots took a black skirt with a sheer black blouse from the hanger. “What about this?” She slipped into the skirt and held the blouse in front of her for Sophie's inspection.
“Older slut. You don't wear see-through clothes when you've been a member of AARP for more than fifteen years.”
Toots rolled her eyes. “I wouldn't wear this blouse without a camisole under it. I am not trying to seduce the doctor. I just want to have a nice dinner with him. And I want to look . . . nice. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Nope, there isn't. But I know you. You've been around the block at least eight times. That I know of. You always start out wanting to look your best. ctually”—Sophie jumped off the bed as though there were springs attached to her feet—“if you were to play down your natural beauty, it might improve your chances. Maybe you've tried too hard in the past, and that's why all your husbands kicked the bucket too soon.”
Toots looked in the mirror and saw Sophie behind her. She grinned. “Is that what you think?”
Sophie came to stand beside her. They viewed the sheer blouse and black skirt together. “It was just a passing thought,” Sophie stated. “Before you ask, no, it was not a gut-instinct thought.” Sophie's gut instinct was always right on the money.
“That's good to hear. At least we can agree that Dr. Becker isn't doomed to die after one measly dinner.”
“I didn't say that,” Sophie said firmly. “Don't put words in my mouth.”
“Trust me, I don't have to. You have plenty spewing out on your own. Now, seriously, which one of these outfits should I wear? Pretend you're going out with Goebel. Which would you choose?”
“I'd probably just go naked. Save a lot of time and trouble.”
Toots tossed the blouse on the bed with the rest of the clothes. “You are no help at all. I'm going to ask Mavis. She has much more of a sense of style than you do. I don't know why I invited you into my room in the first place.”
“Because you love me? You couldn't live without me?” Sophie suggested, an evil grin pasted on her face.
Toots couldn't keep herself from laughing in spite of Sophie's lack of help. “That's a given, and you should know that by now.”
“I do, but I just like yanking your chain. And if it were me, I'd wear the cream skirt and the black blouse. Wear those cream and black heels.”
Toots grabbed the cream skirt and black blouse. “Find those shoes, will you?”
Sophie entered the closet and came out with a sleek pair of black heels with a narrow cream-colored stripe along the side of the shoe. “Remember these? You bought them right after Mavis started sewing clothes for dead people.”
Toots eyed the shoes. “Hmm, I don't recall buying them, but they're sort of nice. Let me try this ensemble on, see what it looks like.” She took the black skirt off, dropping it on the floor, then slid into the cream skirt, grabbed a black camisole out of her chest of drawers, pulled the see-through blouse on, then slid her feet into the shoes. She looked in the mirror, then at Sophie. Part of her wanted to scream, and another part of her wanted to cackle with laughter.
She chose to cackle. “Why, you mean old woman. If I wore this, Dr. Becker would think I was a damned penguin!”
Sophie plopped back on the bed, laughing so hard that tears ran down her face. “And you fell for it!”
Toots removed one of her heels and tossed it in Sophie's direction. It hit the wall, knocking down the one and only wedding picture featuring her and Leland. When she saw what she'd hit, she looked at Sophie, then back at the blank space on the wall, and started to laugh so hard, she fell onto the bed, giggling like a kid. Blotting her eyes with the cuff on the sheer black blouse, she hiccuped, then spoke. Her words were barely audible. “I think that must be a sign!” She continued to laugh, and Sophie joined in, cackling so loud, it was a wonder the others didn't come in to see what was going on.
Again, they were no longer two senior citizens in the twilight of their lives, but two young girls giggling as they talked about Toots's dreamy date with a real doctor, no less.

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